


Invert

by florfering



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Character Study, Dreamscape: A Voltron Fanzine, Gen, Minor Allura/Lotor (Voltron), Minor Character Death, Nightmares, Pre-Canon, i actually never finished s8 idk whats happening lol, pre s8
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-03
Updated: 2019-01-03
Packaged: 2019-10-03 10:10:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,125
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17282099
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/florfering/pseuds/florfering
Summary: A scream erupted in his chest, but never went past his lips. It would've been unbecoming.Zarkon turned to give him a cruel smile.This is your fault.It said.It wasn’t. Was it?Was it?





	Invert

**Author's Note:**

> awwwwwwwwww yeeehawww babey got some tasty lotor content!!!!!!!! art by the fucking rad as shit [bobbo](https://raerara.tumblr.com/). written for the [dreamscapes zine](https://vlddreamscapezine.tumblr.com/) nightmares section owowowo

He leads Karion by the hand, the other twisting into the fabric of the blanket draped around his shoulders. He is the youngest candidate by far, hand still small and soft in Lotor’s. Karion has been quiet for the most part, but when they arrive at the pod, he tugs on Lotor’s sleeve. 

“Hm?” Lotor turns to crouch down on his knees to look at Karion. The child’s eyes are trained on the floor, but after a moment, they flick up to him, his fiery red hair bouncing as his head turns. It curls around his ears. He forces his shoulders down, to stand taller. 

“Thank you for this… this opportunity t-to travel to the new Altean colony,” he says, soft and slow and rehearsed, but still tripping over his words. When he finishes, his slight blush is visible, but his back is straight and his smile is proud. There is still some lingering anxious anticipation, but Lotor smiles at him.

He places a steady palm on Karion’s fragile shoulder. “You will be part of something greater than anything you’ve known, dear Karion. Countless future generations of Alteans will remember your name.” With the tip of his finger, claws sheathed, Lotor taps the center of Karion’s chest, where the lines of the bodysuit converge. It is his heart: the core of his being, the nexus of his quintessence. “Now, are you ready to enter the pod, brave explorer?”

Karion nods—first slowly, then vigorously. Lotor pats him once more on his shoulder, then straightens up, typing a sequence into the pod. It opens with a hiss, and Lotor hoists Karion into the pod. 

“Would you like to keep the blanket?”

Karion looks away, clutching the blanket closer to himself. An answer in and of itself. 

As Lotor moves to close the pod, he notices a furrow in Karion’s brow. He waits for him to divulge his worries, but he stays silent.

“Karion?”

Hesitation, guilt is written clearly across his features. His shoulders hunch up again. Subconsciously, Lotor supposes. 

“I… I never bid my sister farewell,” he says. “Mother’s told her, probably, but—” Karion frowns. 

“It’s alright. If your sister passes the tests, you’ll see her again.” At the sight of Karion’s lips still curled down, Lotor promises, “If not, I will personally oversee her so that she does.”

Karion’s eyes widen. His mouth shapes unspoken words, his voice failing him before he swallows and says, “You’d do that?” 

A hushed breath of reverence. 

Lotor looks up at him. “I give you my word.”

Karion gives him one last smile, gratitude brimming in the shine of his eyes. 

“Thank you.”

Lotor closes the pod. The anesthetic activates, and Karion slumps backward. 

Sleeping. 

≻— ⋆✩⋆ —≺

Purring. Juniberries. 

He was in a field of juniberries. A light drizzle of pebbles and water. A cacophony of voices. Purring. Altea—

Blue quintessence, glowing. His stomach dropped. Electric ice crawled down his spine. He had to get somewhere safe. 

Kova purred. He was curled around his shoulders—his smooth, sleek fur covering Lotor’s mouth, obstructing his breathing. Dayak’s whip, intertwined between his fingers. Restricted them. He tried to move them. Laughter, grating on his ears. 

Purring. A heavy chime. He closed the door behind him and locked it. 

Safe. No more voices.

He plucked the single juniberry off the ground. Folded it between his fingers. Crushed it. Open palm. Three pristine petals. Blue.

The purring stops.

≻— ⋆✩⋆ —≺

Lotor jolts awake, the dream melting away. 

Falling asleep while overseeing the pods. Careless.

He blinks once, twice. The dull ache in his temples assuages but doesn’t quite cease. He exhales. Out for four, in for four. Out for four.

His eyes refocus on the hologram in front of him, monitoring the vitals of the one thousand, five hundred, and sixteen Alteans in the pods. For a second, he’d rather that a sentinel took over this task. 

He berates himself. 

Time passes. He counts his breaths. 

His mind drifts to Oriande. 

In for four, out for four.

Focus.

Out of the corner of his eye, something flashes red. 

Lotor slides his eyes over it. 

**[POD MALFUNCTION - ESTIMATED 0:01:26 TO SHUTDOWN]**

Quiznak. 

Adrenaline surges through his veins. Lotor locates the pod and contacts the sentinel nearest it in a blink. He vaults over the monitoring station, flagging a scientist to take over his place, and sprints to the 57th pod, 4th row down. The rows and rows of pods and Alteans pass him by, but he takes notice of none of them, his focus narrowed down to that pod. 

If he can change the settings to cryofreeze instead of quintessence extraction, he might—

Screaming. 

His blood curdles. Electric ice crawls down his spine. 

An image of a young boy clutching a blanket to his chest with his shoulders hunched up flashes through Lotor’s mind as he races the rest of the distance to the pod. 

He stops before the pod. He’s too late. 

The glass is fractured, the shine of quintessence ebbing through the cracks. Ears ringing with Karion’s anguish, Lotor slams his palm down on the pod control panel, claws clanging against the metal. The barrier dematerializes with a harsh hiss. 

Karion falls forward into his arms, head knocking against his chest plate. Lotor reflexively supports his frail body with his own, sinking to the floor. Karion’s chest heaves, hoarse voice crackling on every inhale and exhale. His hair has been reduced to a dull chestnut. It lays flat, brushing against his neck. Karion’s body is bathed in the healthy, belying blue glow of quintessence.

His eyelids slide open. His pupils are unseeing, their dual tones faded into the gray. “Lotor?” 

“Yes, brave explorer, you are correct.” His hand slides up to cradle Karion’s head. He tries to smile. He cannot.

Karion does. Slow. Sincere. 

Trusting.

Lotor feels daggers twisting in his chest, threatening in his throat. He swallows it down. Instead, he forces his claws back, gently runs a thumb across Karion’s cheeks sagging with age. Karion leans into the touch, taking comfort in its warmth. His eyes slide closed again.

“What happened?” 

A soft mumble. 

Lotor’s voice clings to his throat. “You—All missions have their dangers.”

The ends of Karion’s mouth quirk up weakly. “I see.” 

Karion heaves a slow, heavy breath. “I’m glad.” Tears flow across his face, slide into the hair behind his ears. His entire body is shaking. 

“I was so scared, but—I’m glad. I’m glad I could’ve helped you. The Alteans.”

His voice quivers. He’s still scared, but he puts up a brave face for Lotor. For Lotor, who—

Lotor wants to scream. All Karion’s courage, all his endurance, all his piety didn’t help. His quintessence will be lost to the atmosphere. His death will be in vain. For naught. 

But he cards his fingers through Karion’s hair. It comes off in clumps. Lotor swallows, and his throat _hurts_.

“We will remember your courage for generations to come, Karion.” Lotor hugs him close, cradles the back of his head. He tucks Karion’s face into his neck, feels his frigid cheeks brush against his skin.

“Thank you, my brave explorer.”

Karion doesn’t hear him. 

≻— ⋆✩⋆ —≺

More juniberries. Vines and bushes and trees. Where was the sky? Error warnings. They blared, grating on the bones of his middle ear. 

His father was there. He held a torch—it spoke of victory. Tradition. A strong foundation. Even with his father standing so far away, it seemed to scald Lotor with its fervor. 

Zarkon held the torch high. A symbol of his strength. The Galra could converge around it—around him, the one whom they accepted as their leader. 

He flung the torch onto the ground. Flames licked around them, crawled across his chest. They disintegrated the juniberries, burned them into ash. 

He had to stop it. 

Why wasn’t Lotor moving? He could feel his fingers flexing, and his legs ached with a restlessness that thrummed deep in his chest, pounding a discordant rhythm to the ringing in his ears. 

He could move. _He could move_. 

He didn’t. 

He. Didn’t. Move. 

A scream erupted in his chest, but never went past his lips. It would've been unbecoming.

Zarkon turned to give him a cruel smile. 

_This is your fault_. It said.

It wasn’t. Was it?

_Was it?_

He blinked and Zarkon was gone. The juniberries had regrown. It was as if he had never been there. 

But he had. The juniberries had changed. Lotor couldn’t explain how they did. Maybe it was in their pinks. Dull, dull, dull. 

The torch was still there, the flame extinguished. Lotor picked it up.

It blazed with a lavender light again. This flame spoke of victory. Progress. A brighter future. It chilled him, forming ice in his ribs. 

He turned around. Karion was there, his blazing red hair stark against the backdrop of dulled pinks. He smiled and reached for the torch. 

He could not have it. Lotor needed to pull away. 

He felt movement on his lips, felt himself drop a heavy hand on Karion’s head, and felt himself ruffle it. 

Karion leaned into it easily. His claws pierced his scalp, rivulets of _blue_ blood gushing upwards, evaporating into a _blue_ glow. 

He didn’t mind. He didn’t notice. 

Disgust bound his stomach, caged his chest. 

He should’ve minded. He should’ve noticed.

But Karion reached up, and Lotor leaned down. He carefully loosened his grip—gentle, absolving fingers of a cherub slipping between Lotor’s hand and the handle.

Karion held the torch. It burned brighter than it had in his or Zarkon’s grips. 

The flames roared. They erupted in a blazing inferno as they leaped to the juniberries once more, sprung to arch over their heads as they swallowed up the sky of red, red, red. Lotor was bathed in their rage. 

There had been so many juniberries. 

Lotor was still standing. He had not been burned. Karion was still standing. He had—

_It’s not your fault._

Lotor was still standing. He had not been burned. 

A scream erupts in his chest. It’s harsh on his ears. 

≻— ⋆✩⋆ —≺

There is a new prerequisite for Alteans traveling to the new colony: they must be cusping on adulthood. 

Children’s quintessence is too unstable—Subject #3562582’s had overloaded the containers, Lotor explains to the scientists. They reluctantly agree. 

The journey has a slight chance of danger for the children, he explains to the Altean people. They jubilate from his compassion for the children. 

Both are lies. 

≻— ⋆✩⋆ —≺

He keeps the remainder of Karion’s blanket in a compartment in his ship. 

A reminder. 

≻— ⋆✩⋆ —≺

The Voltron paladins are both everything he expected and not. 

They are unwilling to sacrifice what is necessary to accomplish their goals. As defenders of the universe, this is as expected. What surprises him is how competent they are at achieving what they set out to do without having to go to the lengths Lotor has. 

Lotor pities—

And envies them. 

Allura is incredible. Exquisite. A true Altean princess. She is everything he read about in the texts recounting Altea, Oriande, the Chosen Ones. Powerful, intelligent, resolute. 

Beautiful. 

She stirs something deep in his chest, an ache that draws out tremors he hadn’t allowed himself to indulge in for countless decaphoebs. 

She is the connection to the Altea that Lotor wants to bring to the present and integrate into his new empire. The key to his vision. 

In a few vargas, she finds what Lotor has been desperately chasing after for half his life. The respect she gains from him is incomparable. 

Lotor reveres her. 

≻— ⋆✩⋆ —≺

Allura despises him. 

This is what her eyes tell him, this is what the twist of her lips scream at him. He deserves nothing that she can give him because at his core—

He’s nothing more than scum borne from his father. 

He is irredeemable. 

He has lost her trust. 

She crushes him with a beam of pure quintessence—her rage and her grief and her despair manifested.

≻— ⋆✩⋆ —≺

White. 

Warm. Cool. Crushing. Freeing.

Alone. 

He can’t breathe. He can breathe. 

He can’t move. His fingers twitch for the controls. They don’t respond. 

He failed. 

≻— ⋆✩⋆ —≺

Quintessence is life energy. 

Lotor, drowning in it, cannot die. 

≻— ⋆✩⋆ —≺

He screams. 

He screams and he screams until his throat is raw and he does not stop.

≻— ⋆✩⋆ —≺

He was so close.

He is no different from his father.

≻— ⋆✩⋆ —≺

Once, he thought of calling out. Apologizing. Begging for forgiveness. 

≻— ⋆✩⋆ —≺

Allura stands in front of him again. Her smile is easy and her hand is soft where she caresses his cheek, slides her lithe hand to the nape of his neck. 

Together, they look upon the Altean empire they built together, the symbol of peace and unity after countless generations of war. 

His ambitions have been realized. 

≻— ⋆✩⋆ —≺

He opens his eyes. 

White. 

[](https://raerara.tumblr.com/)

**Author's Note:**

> lmao dont expect anymore vld content from me tho im a dbh connor stan first and a person second now. dm me on [tumblr](http://florfering.tumblr.com/) if you want the link to my dbh ao3 where i post rk1700 uwuwuuwu thats all ive been writing for the past like 5 months lol


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